Emotional connections
by Luca1989
Summary: Coming from the South, the young Assassin Alejandra da Costa is taken captive by Charles Lee and Haytham Kenway - only to be released a short while after and bump into Connor, all in one day. Being distrustful by nature, it takes her some time to find her place in this new life she stumbled into. Can Connor help her find her way? Or is it he who needs the help? The tension!
1. 1773

Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed!

1773

December 16th

"I was shaken awake by my mother one night, two years ago," a young woman, barely out of her girlhood, explained to a man in his late forties. He was wearing a black overcoat that covered his broad shoulders, and beneath that a blue, very neat coat. Altogether, the man made a very clean and neat impression on the girl. She herself was clad in leather clothing. Her skin was dark, as that of a Native, and generally everything about her would have proved her Indian heritage. But on a closer look, her fine face, her small nose, her small, red lips, betrayed that she was not completely of Indian blood. When she began to speak in English, an accent furthermore helped to reveal one part of her heritage – at least to the man listening to her it was quite clear.

"She told me we would leave my father, to make our way into the East, where I would be able to live a life apart from the danger the settlers would prove to our tribe sooner or later. She thought it would be best to get ourselves into the civilized world. I had no choice, she gave me none." She paused, hanging on to the memory of leaving her tribe it seemed.

"As soon as we reached the first settlements, we got into trouble over and over again. The men were not very kind to us – especially me. My mother they understood to be European all over, but I…my mixed heritage was too obvious. So we got into an ambush one day. They tried to hurt us, but my mother –" Here she paused again for a moment, to collect herself, "She made an escape for me. I had to leave her behind, but when I turned to look back once more, I saw her being killed by one of the men."

She looked up at the man, not having done so up to that point, as if to request whether he had heard enough. He nodded slowly.

"And what then?" he inquired, and a sort of anger flashed in her black eyes for a second. She sat straight, and assumed a prouder countenance.

"I was alone. I survived – somehow. I learned the language of the settlers by listening, and watching. I was left alone mostly. I do not know why the attacks on me got less, maybe because, the further I got East, the more civilized and friendly the people became. That is, until I got to Boston, until you caught me, for reasons I am still not aware of."

The man smiled, but in his smile the girl recognized a certain cunning that she had rarely seen before in any man. He was not smiling for benevolence or friendliness; he was smiling because he was following a scheme. It set her into high alarm, but at the same time it also fascinated her.

"I must apologize if you think of me and my friends as rude, but I had to find out who you are – for personal reasons I cannot disclose to you. You…reminded me of someone. But it seems I was mistaken. I will let you go, and as a means of apology I will give you some money. You seem to be in need of it."

She narrowed her eyes as he procured some Pounds out of one of his pockets and held them out to her. Not under any condition was she going to take that money. What did he take her for? He understood, and withdrew his hand.

"Charles, please, guide our guest to a place that suits her," he commanded, and the man with the eyes that were as cold as ice walked towards her with a smug grin.

"Now do not cause a commotion, dearie. I will not hurt you, if you are a good girl." She met his eyes with a dead stare, but remained unmoved and let him apply the eye blind to her. She was not supposed to see where their hideout was.

* * *

Earlier that day, Connor had been on his way to meet Sam Adams, to speak with him about William Johnson and his plans to buy the land of his people. He had almost been at the meeting place, when he had perceived the voice of Charles Lee, the man whose voice, and face, and very appearance, had burned itself into his memories twelve years before. Immediately Connor had made his way towards the voice, of course well hidden, so that no fight would ensue. He was not planning to eliminate Lee then and there, but he had wanted to know what he was about.

What he had seen was that Lee had taken captive a girl. The very same girl his father had just finished interrogating. He had followed Lee, to find out why she had been taken hostage by the Templars, and had sat still close to a window of the _Green Dragon, _listening to the conversation. He knew that his father probably had a notion that he had a child, but obviously he did not know that it was him, Connor, he was searching for. He had given Lee the mission to take any Indian looking person in his age captive so that he could interrogate him or her. But in this case, it was too obvious that she could not be his child.

Now he was following Lee again, quietly, a mere shadow on the roofs of Boston, to the place where he would dispatch the girl. Why he was doing this? Well, he wanted to find out what the fate of the girl would be, and help, if it turned out to be a would be fatal end.

But in this case, it seemed the Templars were more true to their word than he was willing to give them credit for. She was thrown into a puddle of mud – a place that suited her according to Lee's thinking, apparently – and left behind. Lee left, but Connor was not as stupid as to jump down and help her up just now. She was safe, for now, and although Connor had been very cautious, he could not afford being discovered. He did not like it, and hesitated a few times, but eventually he had to leave her there and proceed with his primal intend – meet Sam Adams.

"The people are angry, Connor. They did not like the Stamp Act, and they do not like the Tea Act either, no matter how well disguised it comes," Sam Adams explained. Connor nodded.

"So what will we do?" he asked. Sam Adams smiled.

"There lie two ships in the harbor of Boston, filled with tea crates, waiting to be unloaded, but the permission was not yet given. As long as it is not given, Johnson cannot sell his tea, and thus cannot afford buying your people's land." Those were good news, but Connor was clever enough not to trust his good luck before the end of the day.

"Sooner or later we will not be able to postpone the unloading any longer though. The people stand ready to do whatever it takes to destroy the crates, but the ships are well guarded, and most of our helpers are not exactly soldiers," Adams said. Connor smirked.

"This is where I come in, I suppose?"

"Correct. If you could eliminate the guards and protect us while we sink the crates, Johnson's plan will be defeated."

"When will it start?" he wanted to know. Sam Adams mustered the young assassin, trying to make out whether he was asking out of impatience, or out of the wish to delay the bloody task – without success.

"This evening, when the sun has set, by the docks." Without another word Connor vanished into a side street, leaving the revolutionary to stare after him. He shook his head and pursued his own way.

* * *

Sundown was still a little while off, so Connor had decided to take the time to search for the girl Charles Lee had dealt with. He had no difficulties to find the spot where that villain had left her, and after making sure that the area was safe, he tried to find hints that could lead him to her whereabouts. He did not find much though, except for the blind they had used on her, and that she had dropped in the spot where she had been left behind. He took a look around and realized that there were some people around the place. Maybe someone had seen her not too long ago; after all she was not that easily to be overseen.

He turned towards a man who had kept a close eye on him while he had examined the spot, and now looked away disinterestedly. He obviously did not want to get involved with Connor. Luckily enough for him, he would not, for Connor's intentions were interrupted. Someone screamed, "Stop that nasty thief!" and he quickly turned into the direction the scream came from, finding that the very person he was searching for came rushing towards him, followed by some very angry men. When she came close to him she slowed down a little, but passed him by, only to hide behind him. He felt her grab the cloth of his coat, a plea to help her, and making a connection between the two of them which he could not deny now.

Connor, being the valiant man he was, did not think one second of abandoning her, and was willing to solve the problem at almost any cost. The men stopped in front of him and eyed him cautiously. Apparently they did not mean to pick a quarrel with him. He assumed a passive stance, folding his hands in front of himself.

"Gentlemen, how can I help?" he asked in his politest voice. They pointed at the girl, who was glancing at them shyly from behind his back.

"She stole money from us!" one of them claimed nervously. As he had expected.

"Well, would the matter be settled if she gave you back your money?" he asked, and perceived her inhaling sharply upon his proposal.

The men looked at each other questioningly for a moment, and then nodded in unison at him. Connor glanced down at the girl, who eyed him suspiciously, but after a short moment set out to give back the stolen money. She held it out to the men, and they grabbed it rudely from her, but did not dare to become insulting or worse, keeping a close eye on Connor all the time.

When they were gone, the girl also wanted to leave, without so much as a thank you, or even a glance back at Connor. Quickly, yet gently, he got a hold of her wrist and made her turn to him. A spark of anger flashed in her dark eyes as she watched him dropping some coins into her hand. He smiled at her.

"Take this as a gift. You can use it to get some food at the inn down the street and maybe a room for yourself to rest in as well. The only thing I would ask of you is to wait for me there if you do not have any other urgent plans. I have a proposal to make," he explained.

She eyed him distrustfully as he let go of her. He wondered what it was that made her so wary of him. Was it because his father had kidnapped her? Was she scared of Connor? But she had to see that he meant no harm, being half native.

"Thank you," she finally said, and Connor took this as an affirmation to his request.

* * *

She turned down the street, into the direction the stranger had directed her to. He was right, she could use some food and rest, and the money he had given her was very welcome. Not that she could not have stolen some – for real, this time – but it was easier the honest way. She wondered what had moved him to do that though. Yes, she had drawn him into her troubles, but that did not mean that he had to help her beyond that. She wondered whether she could really trust him. He did not seem to have anything bad in mind, so much was sure. Still –

Her contemplations were interrupted by someone small bumping into her. A pair of happy eyes stared up at her, and she smiled involuntarily. She kneeled down to the little boy she had already met once that day.

"Hello my little one," she greeted the dark skinned chap.

"Thank you for helping us," the boy said, and showed her a big piece of bread. She smiled a little more and ruffled his coarse black hair.

"Did your friends get some, too? Will you be all right for a while now?" she asked. He nodded eagerly.

Her eyes lit up as an idea sprang to her mind. She got out the money she had been given and counted it, the boy watching her with growing interest. She gasped. The money was enough to pay for a whole week's stay at an inn. She wondered whether he had knowingly given her that much. However, she thought it prudent to let someone share in his generosity, and gave a few coins to the child.

"Here, take this so you don't have to steal your bread the next few times," she said with a smile. The boy beamed at her, and, after placing a quick peck on her cheek, rushed off to wherever his friends were.

Feeling a lot better now, she again picked her way to the inn. The sun had almost set – it happened so fast at this time of the year – and she was glad to have some shelter for the night. Upon entering the inn, she found it crowded with mostly men of the white and meaner type. The view raised her hackles, but what had she expected? She felt their eyes on her – of course a girl like her was sure to attract no little attention – and instinctively assumed a defensive posture while making her way to a single empty table, on her way trying to avoid being grabbed by anyone. She settled down quietly, and watched the scenery for a while. The men were drinking, burping, laughing, and they smelled of sweat and their beverages, and made an altogether bad impression on her.

"How can I help you, sweetheart?" a woman in her late forties asked her, and thus shifted her attention from the men to her grumbling stomach.

"Please, I am quite hungry, so would you bring me whatever you think would suit me best?" The woman eyed her curiously for a moment. Whether it was because of her foreign accent, which she could not hide very well, or because the woman was trying to choose what suited her customer best, she could not tell. But eventually she nodded and rushed off, ignoring all the greedy hands reaching out for her butt. The girl shook involuntarily and wondered whether sleeping in that place was a good idea.

Enjoying her food with all the men surrounding her, and trying to get at her by whatever means they were clever enough to think of, was not very easy. At some time or other, one of them had sat down in front of her, mustering her arrogantly, or saying things to her that will not be repeated at this point. But she endured that, and ate quietly. It was when she was done that the door of the tavern was flung open violently, and a boy rushed in.

"They are destroying the tea!" he called out several times, and thus set the whole tavern into motion. In no time everyone was up and running about, grabbing their hats and trying to stay on their feet in the overall commotion. And then, all of a sudden, the place was quiet. Only the thick air and the smell of beverages lingered, and maybe some drunkard who had overdone it was sleeping in a corner. The barmaid let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

"So much for business this night," she said to the owner of the tavern, who just shrugged.

"At least they are fighting the damn taxes, Betty," the man grumbled. Betty the Barmaid shrugged as well, and went about clearing the mess that had been left behind.

"Excuse me," she asked, and Betty looked at her.

"How can I help you?" She got up from her seat.

"How much do I owe you?" The woman cleaned her hands with her apron as she was thinking. She got a little impatient, and simply put an amount of money onto the table which was sure to cover the expenses, and wished the people a good night before leaving the place. There was no way she was going to stay there for the night to give her unknown benefactor the possibility of finding her. Another inn would have to be found.

* * *

December 17th

Early in the morning, after a refreshing slumber, she had mounted her horse and had followed her mother's advice: to find a person called Achilles Davenport. After a whole day of travel she had now reached the place she had been directed to, and was marveling at its beauty. There were trees, as far as the eye could see, most of them coniferous trees, which gave the woodland-scenery a rich green. Between these trees, there were others, of some height, and with strong branches, but without leaves. The whole valley was surrounded by mountains and cliffs. The cold, sharp air was indicating that winter would soon have a firm grip on the landscape, and the silence of nature emphasized that notion.

She moved her horse to follow the road, and soon found two figures approaching her. One was a man shouldering a mining pick, the other a woman shouldering a rifle. They were chatting, but when they spotted her they instantly stopped both their movement and their talking, and fixed their attention on her. She tried to approach them lightly, but could not help noticing the wariness in their faces. Well, it was a good thing to have wary neighbors, she guessed.

"Can we help you somehow?" the woman asked. She stopped her horse beside them, and wondered for a moment whether it was safe to inquire after Achilles Davenport. If she did, they would wonder what she would want of him. If she didn't, they would wonder what she wanted there at all. Either way, she was sure a close eye would be kept on her.

"Is there an Achilles Davenport to be found here?" The man's face cleared up a little. He turned and pointed at a mansion upon a hill, and then, with a French accent, said, "He lives up there!" She nodded, thanked him, and quickly set her horse into motion before the more mistrustful woman could interfere.

* * *

After his fruitless search for the girl he had helped out so generously he finally entered the homestead again. The frustration he had felt for not finding her anywhere still lingered with him, but the sight of home consoled him a little. What did it matter anyway? If she was not interested in his kindness it was just as well. Sure, the money was gone, but it was not an irreparable loss. On his way to the mansion he greeted the homesteaders that happened to pass him by, and by the time he reached the mansion, he had discarded his frustration. It had been stupid to let that incident occupy his thoughts that much in the first place. After all, he had achieved a great victory against William Johnson by destroying the tea.

Contentedly he entered the mansion, without even having taken notice of the foreign horse tied to the bar he had tied his to. He heard Achilles's voice in the parlor and decided to check on him before changing clothes. He wondered who was bearing him company as he made a beeline for the room. He entered, and looked at Achilles first, for he was sitting with his face to the doorframe. His eyes wandered to the dark shock of hair of the visitor, and it seemed familiar to him. But it could not possibly be, right?

"Connor, we have just been talking about you," Achilles said, getting up, and at the same time the visitor got up, and turned to him with a smile. That smile, however, was replaced by sheer surprise very quickly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her brown eyes widening. He could not really tell how much his face expressed his bewilderment, but he supposed it was quite a bit. A sheepish grin crept back onto her face and she reached for a pouch that was attached to her belt. "I suppose I owe you…" She reached for his hand and dropped money into his palm, and he looked at it, dumbfounded. Fortunately, his mind was recovering soon enough to make his rebuff seem natural.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at her. "You owe me an apology, most of all," he stated drily.

"You two know each other?" Achilles stepped in. The girl turned to the old man, but before she could answer Connor said, "No. Would you care to introduce me?" She shot a shrewd glance at him, and Achilles confusedly ventured to do as he had asked.

"Connor, this is Alejandra da Costa, the daughter of one of my earliest recruits. Alejandra, this is Connor." Connor frowned.

"Recruits?" he asked.

"My mother is an Assassin. And so am I."

He smirked, and although he was not usually the audacious kind of person, he prompted, "You should work on your skills, in that case." He caught a reproaching glance from Achilles. She, however, only rolled her eyes, but did not seem to consider it necessary to defend herself.

"By the by, Alejandra, where is your mother?" Achilles asked, and she turned to him, drawing up her shoulders.

"She is somewhere in Europe. Alive, I hope," she said. Achilles let out a deep sigh. "She left me here three years ago, saying I could survive on my own and that she had every right to think of herself now." The old man sat back in his seat and looked a little weary.

"That is just like her…" he muttered, and then looked up at Connor. "Would you mind showing Alejandra around? I think she would like to stay with us for a while, or am I mistaken?" She nodded slowly.

"If you don't mind, that is," she said, addressing Connor. He shrugged.

"Only give me a moment to get changed," he said, and with an acknowledging nod at Achilles he left the room.

* * *

He found her outside, leading her horse into one of the stables, and found that his was already lodged. He smiled as she turned to him.

"It is really generous of you to take me in," she said as she closed the stable's door. He shrugged.

"I see no reason why we should not," he said truthfully, and she narrowed her eyes. Then she laughed.

"I see quite some reasons," she said, and smiled as she noticed his puzzled face. "For all you know of me I might be a Templar spy." He raised an eyebrow. Although he considered this very unlikely, he saw a point there.

"I will make sure not to turn my back on you, then," he said. She nodded.

"You are well-advised to do so," she told him with a grin, and then passed him by. "Let us move a bit, I am getting cold."

He caught up with her. "While we do you could tell me a bit about yourself.

"Oh no, I would rather not," she refused, and he frowned.

"How am I to judge whether you are trustworthy then?" She giggled.

"You don't really mean to build your trust on my story, do you?" He tilted his head, and shrugged. "I could tell you the greatest lies about myself and you would not even notice." He smirked.

"I think I would," he said quietly. She shook her head with a grin. He stopped and turned to her. "What makes you think I would not?" She put her arms akimbo and mustered him with a smile.

"If I told you now that when we first met I was not running away from these men because I actually failed stealing from them... Let us say I stole from them in such an obvious manner as to draw their attention to myself to give some hungry children the opportunity to steal a little something to eat from them. Truth or lie?" He mustered her for a moment, trying to see in her eyes whether she was lying or not. He considered the way she had hid herself behind him that day, and how scared she had been, and was quite sure that she was lying. He told her so, and earned her laughter.

She held something out to him next, and it looked like his money pouch. Upon examining his belt, he found that it was. He stared at it in disbelief, taking it from her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and watched him fastening it to his belt again – this time with twice as much care as he had before. How had she managed to steal it from him so easily? Well, no matter how, if she could steal from him unnoticed, she could steal from most people unnoticed, proving her tale to be true.

"You would do best to judge me on the basis of my actions," she said quietly, without the slightest hint of haughtiness, which he had to give her credit for.

"Actions can lie just as words do," he said as he attached the pouch to his belt again, making sure to fix it better this time. She shrugged.

"You are right. And there is nothing I can say to convince you otherwise, because everything I could say would possibly be a lie." He walked up to her.

"I will rely on the old man's judgment then, until I know you better."

"Connor." Achilles stepped into his room and closed the door behind him. Connor, sitting at his table, caught up in reflections, looked up at him. "I have heard of your so called Tea Party." Slowly Connor nodded.

"I hope Johnson will refrain from buying my people's land now." Achilles got himself a chair and seated himself at the head of the table.

"I think you should have killed him while you could," Achilles said. Connor had expected something in the way, and remained accordingly quiet.

"If he recovers from this financial blow and tries to buy the land again, I will." The old man acknowledged his words silently.

"What do you think of Alejandra?" he then asked animatedly, making Connor wonder how one could change his mood so quickly. But, to be honest, he had noticed Achilles's happiness about her presence before. He drew up his shoulders when he tried to think of an answer to his question.

"I really do not know what to make of her. She herself told me that she could not be trusted. And she refused to tell me anything about herself." Achilles mustered him questioningly, and Connor started recounting their conversation to him. When he was done, the older man leaned back in his chair, with a bemused grin, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Her mother has indeed taught her well," he said musingly. Connor frowned, and Achilles sat up again. "Let me enlighten you just a little. Fernánda, Alejandra's mother, came to me when she was ten years old. She was an orphan coming directly from Spain. I endeavored to train her, and soon discovered that she had an amazing skill in deception. Her enemies could never be sure of her. At the same time though, _we _could always count on her. When she was seventeen, she left for a long time, and came back pregnant. She had fallen in love with an Indian chief, of the Dakota, if I recall correctly. But she had left him for fear for her child, and she left us, too, for the same reason. She vanished. We tried finding her, but to no avail. And now it seems she is in Europe."

"And what does that tell us about Alejandra?" Connor interposed. Achilles smiled.

"It tells us that she grew up with a very caring, but strict mother, who taught her all she knows before leaving her."

"That alone justifies that we trust her now?"

"How come you are so bent on not trusting her?" The old man scrutinized him in wonder, and Connor let out a deep sigh, looking out of the window.

"I cannot tell. It is just…she is not very disposed to trust _me_, I think." Achilles laughed heartily, holding his stomach from doing so. As his laughter subsided he put his left hand onto Connor's right shoulder.

"You should not forget that, as a female, she is in a more difficult position than you are. She has probably learned very early to watch her back, especially when it comes to men. If Fernánda has taught her only half as well as I think she will always be suspicious of our intentions." He mustered him for a moment before continuing, "As to her own trustworthiness, I suggest you take her with you whenever you can. I want you to find out how well trained she is, and I want you to watch her very closely. Her actions will speak for themselves. And keep in mind, Connor, that you have already learned a bit about her today: she did not lie to you, and she helped out starving children in Boston." With that he got up, and left the room. Connor let out a deep sigh, and rubbed his eyes, groaning. What had he gotten himself into?


	2. 1774

1774

January

"I will be gone for a few days," Connor announced at the breakfast table. She glanced at him, but did not care to speak, chewing away on her piece of bread.

"Where to?" Achilles asked, and her eyes darted to him.

"Well, I wanted to see how my village is doing. Hear if there is news about Johnson's plans." Slowly Achilles nodded, and then both their gazes fell on her. She swallowed, and straightened herself.

"Huh?" was all she could bring forth. It was still early in the morning, and she had not slept very well. A smile hushed across Connor's face as he gently rested his hands on the table, bestowing his attention on her.

"Would you accompany me?"

She tilted her head to the right and looked at him questioningly. "Do you think you will need my help?" she inquired. She really did not know why he would ask her to come with him. His plans did not sound like he could not carry them out on his own.

Connor shrugged. "You never know what might happen. I would feel safer if I had someone to watch my back," he told her, and she narrowed her eyes, mustering him with a great deal of distrust. She saw in his face that he felt offended by her gaze, and relaxed a little. For a moment she turned her thoughts over in her mind. She was very clear about the fact that he was to be trusted, but her mother's lessons about the hideousness of the male sex were too deeply rooted to be ignored just like that. Still she was more than ready to give Connor the benefit of a doubt.

"How long will we be out?" she asked, and Connor's mien brightened.

"All things considered…one week, I should think." Alejandra threw a glance out of the window. It was still snowing. The snow was heaping up outside. It would take the horses a lot of strength to go through so much snow. Connor seemed to read the skepticism in her face and added, "All right, maybe one and a half. But you cannot possibly mean to tell me that it is too long for you to stay away from here. You cannot have travelled through the colonies only to make this your home within the matter of a few weeks." She glanced at him, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, giving him a defiant look.

"What makes you think I travelled the colonies?" She felt her temper getting the better of her, and clenched her jaws in anger. Connor assumed a calming stance.

"I just assumed…"

"Assumed I did not have a home until I got here? _I _never said so." She shot a glance at Achilles, but he was just leaning back in his chair, obviously not intending to interfere. Connor let out a deep sigh.

"Well, I apologize, then," he said.

She sneered at him. "Maybe you should just not make assumptions about me; it would spare you the disgrace of apologizing." In the matter of a split second his face turned from concessive to defiant.

"Or maybe _you _should start talking about yourself to make assumptions unnecessary. I really don't see your point in being so secretive." She did not know what to say to this. She did not because he was probably right. But she would never hand that to him. He, however, seemed quite exasperated, for he got up with so much momentum as to send the chair sliding across the wooden floor. "You know what? I don't really care what you do. Stay here if you like. But don't expect me to put up with your distrust for much longer. I don't deserve it." With that he left the room and went upstairs. Alejandra knitted her brows as she felt a strange kind of disappointment weighing down upon her.

"You should try to restrain yourself sometimes," Achilles advised. She huffed.

"It is not his business to speculate about my past," she stated, but at the same time felt she was doing him great injustice.

"Connor is not used to not being trusted, Alejandra. And justly so. Haven't you said yourself that the homesteaders seem to be so much at ease here? That is his doing. They trust him to keep them safe from harm, and he does." She drew up her shoulders and stared down at her half-eaten breakfast guiltily. Heaving a big sigh she got up and picked her way upstairs.

"Where are you going?" Achilles demanded. She stopped in the doorframe, and turned to him.

"To disgrace myself," she stated, and caught a glimpse of the old man's approving glance before proceeding. Carefully she picked her way upstairs. She heard him rummaging in his room, probably gathering his things for the journey. Taking in a deep breath and plucking up a little courage, she stepped into the doorframe and knocked against the opened door. He paused in his motions and turned to face her. His face was still filled with anger, and she tried to give him an apologetic smile. To some degree it seemed to work.

"I-" she began, and he put his arms akimbo. She grappled for words. She was not used to apologizing. "I had no right to be so-" Again she searched for something appropriate to say, her eyes searching the room – as if the right words were written onto the walls. "To be so mean." Yes, mean was probably the right word. His mien softened a bit more, leaving only small traces of his anger. Without responding, he turned back to his things. Instantly she felt her temper welling up again, but she fought it down. "May I…still come with you?" she asked timidly, having composed herself.

"You may," he said quietly, and then turned to her with a smile. "I would be pleased if you did." She returned the friendly gesture and then picked her way downstairs, intending to finish her breakfast now.

* * *

He watched her rubbing and wringing her hands, breathing warm breath onto them every once in a while. She had been doing it for quite some time now. The snowing had ceased, and the cold really was not that bad. He felt it, too, of course, but not as badly as she did it seemed. She was very absorbed in thoughts, staring ahead and trying not to stray too far from the road – if there was a road to be distinguished between all that snow really. Anyhow, she did not notice his observing her.

He decided that it was best to engage her in a little talk to distract her. "Are you cold?" She turned to him, instantly stopping her efforts to warm her hands, and straightened her back.

"I am not used to the Northern climate yet," she said with a slight smile. So she came from the South. He had suspected as much, but he did not dare to say it even now. One could never tell whether she would not make an accusation out of it he guessed.

"It is nicer in summer, to be sure," he remarked, and she smiled gratefully at him.

"My mother and I lived in the South a lot," she said, and for a moment her gaze grew distant. She seemed to dwell in her memories for a moment before resuming her talk. "We never remained in one place for long when I was very young. Then, seven years ago, we settled down in Annapolis, in the Province of Maryland. And three years ago my mother left. She said if I felt I could not do any more where I was, I should find Achilles." He mustered her for a moment, trying to discern in what kind of mood she was, what he could say now, and what he could not. He really wanted to avoid any kind of quarrel with her.

But, as chance would have it, the conversation came to an abrupt end with a slip. A slip of Alejandra's horse. It did not regain its balance and fell in a matter of seconds, Alejandra landing in the deep snow, cussing at the animal, which was trying to get up again instantly. Connor, in the meantime, got off his horse to help her up to her feet. He took her by her right arm, pulled her up and steadied her by putting his left arm on her back.

"Are you all right?" he asked, not withdrawing his support. Instead of answering him, however, she stepped towards her horse furiously, making it step back with its head raised in defense, and making him let go of her.

"Estúpida bestia! Ten cuidado donde corres!" She was gesticulating wildly, not exactly making the animal less scared of her, and dazzling Connor to the utmost. He had rarely seen such temper flaring up in a person all at once. But, as quickly as it had come, it now subsided, with a big sigh on her part. The horse seemed to notice, and lowered its head again, as if to apologize. Alejandra turned to Connor, brushing the snow off of her clothes. Her naturally tan cheeks were flushed now, and her breath a little quickened. Her hair had come loose in the fall it seemed, and she quickly gathered it and tied it back together.

"At least I am warm now," she finally said, and made him wake up from his temporary stupor. For a moment he had been caught in admiration for the beauty this short tantrum had brought with it. It was not that she was not beautiful when she was calm as well. It was just that he had not really noticed so far.

"That is good," he said with a smile, and then picked his way back to his horse. "We will soon reach the inn."

* * *

A few minutes ago they had entered the Munroe Tavern, an accommodation a little outside of Concord, towards the West. It lay on the route to his village, and they were sure of not meeting any Redcoats there. He had asked Alejandra to take a seat while he would take care of their rooms and something to eat. Just now he was turning from the counter to pick his way to the table she was sitting at – and found that the seat he was supposed to sit on was occupied.

A dirty-faced, slimy looking fellow in ragged clothes was talking to Alejandra – Connor could only imagine what it was about. He could also imagine that she was not very pleased by the company, and that, if he was not quick enough, she would soon see to it that the man had none of his teeth left to talk to any woman again. So he closed the distance between himself and the person in danger quickly, looking him straight in the face as grimly as possible. As the fellow caught a glimpse of him he got up from the seat and retreated, holding up his hands in defense.

Connor followed the man's retreat with his gaze while sitting down at the table. "I guess I just spared him a worse fate," he said bemusedly while turning his head to her. She had pursed her lips, but somehow still managed to smile. Her eyes seemed to beam – no, her whole face, in fact, was shining. She was mustering him with a strange mixture of appreciation and interest.

"It is a downright pity you scared him away. He promised me the most interesting things," she said buoyantly. He grinned, but did not care to ask any details. He was glad to be spared, in fact.

"I have rented two rooms for the night," he said.

"What do I owe you?" Immediately she got out her purse, but she stopped again as she saw his gesture to show her that it was all right. She looked at him questioningly, and he smiled.

"We live under the same roof, so I think money should be no real issue between us," he explained, and again that distrust flashed up in her face, although she quickly tried to make up for it with a smile. He, for his part, repressed a sigh, and tried to accept that it would take a long time until she could trust him. "Let us agree that the next time is on you." Her mien lit up – this time for real – and she nodded.

* * *

June

"The flowers are right up there," Prudence, one of the homesteaders, said, and pointed up at a high plateau. They – meaning Prudence, Norris, Connor and Alejandra – had come there because Norris was desperate about what sort of present to make a woman, and Prudence had suggested picking an especially beautiful bundle of wildflowers. Now those wildflowers were on top of that plateau, and Norris had asked Connor and Alejandra for help since he could not climb so well.

Alejandra still was not sure whether flowers were really the right thing for Myriam. After all, Myriam was a tough woman. But she had said nothing because she felt she did not yet have the right to discredit anybody within the homestead. If Norris wanted to give it a try she would help, of course.

"Do you want to go?" Connor asked. He really was so polite towards her all the time that it sometimes vexed her. But she knew quite well that he did his best not to irritate her. She supposed she had not made the best of impressions on him from the start, being so short-tempered. Sometimes she just could not help it though.

She smiled as an idea crossed her mind. "Let us make a race up there," she prompted, and before he could respond she was already searching for the best starting point. Having found it she began to make her way up. She found the right ledges instinctively, and advanced very quickly. However, she was aware of the fact that Connor was gaining on her fast enough, and she was not willing to let him win that easily, so she tried harder. In the end, they reached the end at the same time.

"Phew, that was nice," she panted, and Connor mustered her with a smile, breathing heavily as well.

"What ideas you have sometimes," he remarked, but she was already looking for those flowers. They really were very beautiful, and grew strong, as Prudence had said. But there was more to them. They reminded her of earlier days.

"My mother would love those," she said absent-mindedly, and settled down on a nearby tree trunk, allowing herself to get lost in a childhood memory. Connor sat down beside her quietly, and it was pleasant to just sit there for a moment, letting the early summer sun shine down upon them. "Sometimes, when she felt it was all right to take a day off, she took me on her horse – a nasty old mare – and we rode out to that one special flower field. The most beautiful flowers grew there. We picked a spray, and took it home. I loved those days." A sad smile crept onto her face, and she dwelled in the memory for a moment longer before coming back to the present by jumping up. "Well, let us get going!"

* * *

Their way back to the mansion was covered in silence. But he did not really mind. Alejandra was not the type of person to talk when there was nothing to say, and he appreciated that in her. He also appreciated moments like the one earlier, on that platform. They were rare, but they were always very sincere, and always took him by surprise. There was nothing artificial about such moments, and no acting was involved. She was herself at that moment, and though such confessions usually did not contain anything vital about her past as an Assassin, they revealed a lot about her character and made him trust her more. He was a whole lot surer of her good intentions that way than he ever could have been if she had sworn her allegiance a thousand times to him.

"Alejandra, a letter for you." Achilles had just stepped out of the mansion to welcome them. She looked quite surprised, but took the piece of paper from him, breaking the seal and unfolding it curiously. She started reading while at the same time she walked into the house. Connor was about to follow, but stopped in his steps as he heard his Indian name being called in a hurry. He turned to see his friend Kanen'tó:kon approaching.

"Kanen'tó:kon, has something happened? Is everyone all right? Has something happened?" The fear for his people had immediately taken a hold of him, and he could not get the information out of his friend quickly enough. He was panting heavily, and needed a little time to recover.

"Not yet," he finally brought forth, "Johnson is meeting with the elders at the moment. They are talking about selling the land to him again," he said as he regained his composure.

"Where? When?"

"Johnson Hall, Monmouth. We have to hurry," his friend told him. He nodded and hurried inside to get his weapons and cloak. But before descending into the cellar he passed by Alejandra, who was just folding her letter thoughtfully. "Will you come with us?" he wanted to know, hoping she would say yes. She gave him a questioning look. "My people's land is being threatened once more," he quickly explained, and she mouthed an 'Oh.'

"I am afraid I must leave," she then said, and without realizing it he abandoned his hurried plans to get into the cellar, stepping into the working room instead. He read some kind of worry in her face, and felt disappointment welling up inside himself.

"Leave? Where to?" She looked down at her letter for a moment, as if to reassure herself that she really had to go.

"A dear friend of mine has requested my presence back home," she explained, looking back up at him. "I do not know what the matter is, but it seems to be pressing." A moment's silence ensued. She looked at him with embarrassment, and bit her lower lip, what for he could not tell.

"How long will you have to stay?" he inquired, and then wondered why this was the only thing he could think of asking her. It was selfish, and not very much like him.

She drew up her shoulders. "I could not say."

"But you _will _come back, won't you?" The hope in his voice was so salient that it made him again wonder what the matter with him was. He really had no explanation at hand, but he felt that her permanent absence would make him unhappy somehow.

Much to his relief she flashed a smile. "Certainly," she stated, and then added, "Shall I write you monthly letters so that you don't miss me too much?" The amusement in her voice made him laugh.

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," he said lightheartedly, and with the certainty she gave him his original quest forced itself on him again.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," his friend said, stepping into the doorframe, "We must hurry." He wished Alejandra good luck, and then turned and hurried into the cellar.

* * *

"Ratonhnhaké:ton?" Currently, the two of them were making their way through the wilderness, which was only possible at a slow pace. Johnson Hall was already in sight, and Connor was trying to make out a way to get there unseen.

"What is it?"

"What is Alejandra like?"

Connor frowned, but let himself into the question. "What is she like?"

His friend nodded. "I mean, is she more like we are, or more like the colonials?" An involuntary smirk crept to his face. Although he could not blame Kanen'tó:kon for thinking of people in such terms he thought it ridiculous to try and place her in any of those categories. But Kanen'tó:kon did not know that she was an Assassin, and was not about to find out.

"She grew up in the colonies," he gave as a reply, and then dismounted, having reached a cliff from which he could probably make his way up to Johnson Hall.

"That is a pity," Kanen'tó:kon remarked coldly. Connor wondered whether, had he told him that she had grown up with her tribe, he would have been more delighted. He supposed he would never know, and was glad he had just spared his friend the effort of trying to court her. It would have been a disaster.

* * *

July

After a week's travel Alejandra reached Annapolis. Although she had only been away for a year, the cityscape had changed. Buildings that had only had their foundations when she had left were now fully grown, and new foundations had been laid. More and more people were coming across the ocean, and more and more space was needed. Of course, Annapolis being a seaport, it was prone to rapid growth. The trade was probably prospering more than ever and with it more and more slaves were brought in. Slavery was one main reason why her mother had decided to settle down in this city.

Another reason was the family whom Alejandra was going to pay a visit now. They were friends of her mother, and during her years she had spent in Annapolis Alejandra had formed a deep, sisterly bond with the daughters of the house. The family name was Antúnez-Belmonte, and they had a quite good standing within the community, being very successful horse-breeders. Owed to that circumstance, their country estate was well outside of the city, where there was enough space for pastures and training grounds.

She rode up the path that led to the main house, and was welcomed by the man of the house himself. He was holding stretching out his arms in warm welcome and a broad smile covered his whole face.

"My dearest Alejandra! How good of you to come so quickly!" He took the reins of her horse and she dismounted.

"Basilio, I am very happy to see you so well," she said, embracing him. Formalities had never been an issue in that family – not among themselves, at any rate. Upon Basilio's call a stable boy unknown to her came running.

"Oliver, please take this formidable animal to the stables and feed it well," he ordered, and the boy hastened away with the horse. The man turned to Alejandra again and mustered her. "If it is possible, you have become even more beautiful! But what with those clothes! A fine satin dress would bring your beauty out so much better!" She laughed as she followed him into the house.

"But what kind of figure would I make on the horse in such a dress?" she joked, and he joined into the laughter. He then abruptly stopped and motioned for her to listen for a moment. From the upper rooms of the house the sound of someone playing the piano could be heard, and Alejandra's eyes widened.

"Can that be little Estela?" she asked cheerfully. He nodded.

"We are all very proud of her play. And to imagine she is only thirteen." Alejandra nodded in agreement. "But you will want to see Lucía – she asked me to send you out to her as soon as you came. She can barely wait to see you again!" His words instilled her with an incredible sense of joy. "She is in her favorite spot, reading one of those romances. You can barely miss her!"

Lucía's favorite spot was a great oak in the center of one of the many pastures surrounding the estate. On hot days like these it gave no small amount of comforting shadow, and Alejandra remembered spending many hours of her free time in summer under that tree.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" she called out loudly, and cheerfully, while walking towards the absorbed girl. Said girl immediately shot her head up, dropped her book while a big smile formed on her face, and jumped up.

"Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date…" she said, walking towards Alejandra. She tried hard to contain her hasty steps, in order not to appear too much of a romp, but failed eventually, closing the last few meters running. They embraced each other and Lucía clung to Alejandra as if for dear life.

"How much I have missed you, my dearest of all friends! You must tell me everything! Have you found a new place to live? What is it like? Do you have much to do? Are the people friendly?" Alejandra gently patted her friend's back.

"All in good time, when your whole family is assembled. I am sure they will have similar questions," she said, glad to put off the inquisition for a little longer. "First, you owe me an explanation for the seven days I have had to spend on horseback to get here."

Although the girl tried to restrain herself, her quickly flushing cheeks already signified the outbreak of joy that was to follow. It was accompanied by giggling, wild gestures towards the clear blue sky, and a shower of words that did not immediately make sense. There was something about a Mr. Bell, and horses, and intentions, and doubts and long evening walks and what not, but nothing made much sense at first.

"I am so sorry!" she exclaimed vehemently, catching for breath and fanning fresh air into her heated face. "You must think me the greatest fool!" Alejandra shook her head. A broad smile adorned the girl's face, but she was beginning to calm down. "Let me begin again," she commenced, but took some more moments to gather her faculties. "Six months ago a gentleman by the name Bell called on my father because he needed a horse and knew from hearsay that ours were the best. He seemed a very wealthy man, so my father showed him some of our finest horses. While they were busy showing and admiring, Estela and I came back from a ride."

She stopped, her cheeks becoming more flushed, and Alejandra could see another happy squeal rising in her friend's chest. She could not help sharing the abundant joy by smiling brightly. However, the squeal was fought down, and Lucía went on: "I did not at first notice Mr. Bell as particular, and only bestowed the regular courtesies on him before telling my father that my new mare was especially well bred and trained. At that moment Mr. Bell interrupted politely and asked for a show of her talents, and that I should present her. Father of course refused at first, but he insisted in such a polite, yet decided way that he could not help consenting, and I-" She let out a deep sigh, and turned her eyes to the sky.

"I could not help admiring him!" It was more a confession than a statement. Alejandra frowned because she did not wholly understand what that meant for her now. Lucía eagerly grabbed her hands and pressed them gently. "He came back frequently since then, pretending to intend buying my mare – which cannot be sold, of course – and bestowing all his attentions and kind words on me. Oh, I know what this means, and it makes me so very happy to think that such an honorable man should take so much interest in me!" Alejandra slowly nodded.

"And what exactly do you need me for, now?" she asked confusedly. Quickly Lucía turned away, biting her lower lip. When she turned back again she took in a deep breath. Her eyes were brimming with the joy of infatuation.

"I am not as sure as I should like to be!" Her face grew a little more serious, "_If _he proposes I want to be absolutely sure that he is an entirely _good _man." She violently grabbed Alejandra's hands again. "Please, Alejandra, you _must _make sure that he does not pretend to be in love with me because of the inheritance that is one day to be mine. And you _must _make sure that he does not partake in any dark affairs. I cannot marry a man who trades slaves or things of the like! You _have to _make sure! My happiness depends upon it!"

* * *

"Connor! Have you seen Alejandra?" Connor stopped in his step, having been on his way to the loggers to make a request for some wood for the Aquila. He turned to face Norris, who was catching up with him.

"She has gone to Annapolis," he answered drily. He was not in the best of moods these days. He had eliminated Johnson, but the deed had not brought the relief he had wanted, and had added regret to his already mixed collection of feelings.

William Johnson had claimed to have wanted to protect the land of his people from the colonials and the King. But could he trust the Templar's words? He could not tell. Achilles was sure he was not to be trusted, of course, but Connor could not help feeling that maybe there was a bit of truth in his pretended intentions. He needed someone to talk to about this, someone who was not so set on extinguishing the Templars because they were Templars.

"Oh! When will she be back?" Norris stopped beside him, his face filled with disappointment. Connor drew up his shoulders.

"I do not know. She did not know herself. What do you need her for?"

The Frenchman blushed a little, and Connor could already guess that it had something to do with Myriam. Norris heaved a big sigh. "Myriam hated the flowers! She tossed them aside! I knew she was not the type of woman for flowers! I wanted to ask Alejandra whether she had an idea what Myriam would like. She seems to be more like Myriam, don't you think?" Connor frowned. He had not yet thought about that. Sure, Alejandra was not the typical kind of woman, and neither was Myriam. Still he did not think they were very similar. "Do you have an idea what she would like for a gift?"

"Alejandra?" he asked in confusion, and Norris laughed, patting him on the back.

"No, my friend! Myriam!"

"What about me?" Both of them froze when they heard the voice of the person in question. Norris threw a desperate glance at Connor, and he turned to face Myriam with a smile.

"We just realized how similar you and Alejandra are," he said, as it was the first pretext coming to his mind. Myriam glanced at him with her arms crossed in front of her chest, and then scrutinized Norris for a moment, with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Nervously Norris rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. It was very interesting to watch this scene of interpersonal exchange. Myriam seemed to know what was cooking, but decided not to poke around anymore. Instead, she turned to Connor.

"Speaking of Alejandra, where is she? I wanted to ask her for some help with the hunting."

"She is gone to Annapolis," Norris said hastily, and Myriam raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe I can help?" Connor issued.

"Oh, no offense, but you are scaring away the game," she joked, making Connor grin. "What is she doing in Annapolis?"

He shrugged. "Helping a friend, I think."

Myriam smirked. "Let us hope it is no male friend, huh?" she said, and then left the two of them behind. Connor looked at Norris in confusion.

"What did she mean by that?" he asked worriedly. Norris laughed.

"That she might not return if the friend is some kind of love interest to Alejandra," he explained, and then went away as well, still snickering.

"But she said she would return," Connor said in disbelief, feeling a strange kind of disappointment. After all, she had proved to be a very talented companion to him.

* * *

October

"I _still _cannot believe you called me here as early as July when you perfectly knew that the reason for my coming was not going to be here for at least five more months!" She tried to emphasize her exasperation with a big sigh, but her efforts to take enough breath were constrained by the tight bodice belonging to the expensive gown she had been made to wear in order to go to the theatre.

Lucía rolled her eyes, as she always would when Alejandra complained about the waste of time she had to tolerate for the sake of her friend. "You know you could leave and come back in time if you have any pressing matters to attend to back north. Since you are still here, things cannot be that bad."

Alejandra pressed her lips to a thin line and looked out of the window of the coach. Yes, things were not that bad. Probably. It was this tiny 'probably' that vexed her. Maybe something had happened; maybe her help would have been needed or would be needed. So far the newspapers – which she had attended to meticulously – had reported of no unusual events in the North which would have hinted at Connor's participation. Still –

"Ah, dear me! _Now I know_!" Alejandra turned her head to her enlightened friend in surprise. What did she know? A mischievous grin told her that Lucía was up to something. "You have a special interest in that young native you mentioned on the sidelines! What was his name?" Alejandra's mouth dropped open with the intention of saying something, but she was too much taken by surprise to find any words. "Connor! That was his name!"

She heaved a sigh as well as she could, and rolled her eyes. She would not even try to contradict, because everything she could say was sure to be used against her. "Can it be believed! The unconquerable Miss da Costa! In love! I will tell everyone once we get home so we can visit you and your sweetheart sometime!" Alejandra gasped and now felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she imagined the embarrassment that would arise from such a visit.

Fortunately the coach now stopped in front of the theatre, forcing Lucía to stop her follies and behave. They alighted from the coach, the one's cheeks flushed with amusement, the other's with embarrassment.

"'Tis woman that seduces all Mankind

By her we first were taught the wheedling Arts;

Her very Eyes can cheat; when most she's kind,

She tricks us of our Money with our Hearts.

For her like wolves by Night we roam for Prey

And practice ev'ry Fraud to bribe her Charms;

For suits of Love, like Law, are won by Pay,

And Beauty must be fee'd into our Arms."

The play – 'The Beggar's Opera' by John Gay – had only just started, and Alejandra was very engaged with it when her attention was suddenly taken away from it because Lucía was nudging her.

"There is a gentleman in the upper ranks throwing glances at you ever so often," she whispered, and Alejandra followed her friend's gaze. When she laid eyes on the gentleman in question she immediately fixed her gaze on the stage again though, and hoped with all her might that he had not noticed her looking up at him.

Questions sprung to her mind, distracting her so much that the rest of the play was lost on her. What was he doing there? Was he not supposed to be up north to carry out his Templar plans? Had he recognized her? Did he know she was an Assassin?

A very uncomfortable feeling spread in her stomach, and she had a great desire to leave at once. But at the same time she could not, fearing to cause a commotion.

"He seems very much caught up in you. No wonder, you _do _look so wonderful tonight," Lucía said, but Alejandra kept her gaze fixed on the stage, and tried to find answers to her questions. "I wonder what your Connor would say to that! It would be like in the novels, a perfect love story!"

"Now where is our coach? Why is he not here, as appointed?" Lucía asked angrily, looking around. They had already waited some time for their coach, but it had not shown up. Alejandra waited patiently, and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible.

"Can I be of help to the ladies?" She froze as she heard the voice of the man she had been longing to avoid behind her. Lucía instantly turned to him, and curtseyed, and Alejandra fell into line to avoid suspicion. At the same time she averted her eyes though.

"Good evening sir," Lucía began politely, and Alejandra wished she would not go on, her heart beating wildly within her chest. If her friend introduced the two of them now, he would most likely recognize her. An immediate sense of danger emanated from this man, and the inconvenient clothing she was wearing did nothing to make her feel safer. "My name is Lucía Antúnez-Belmonte." He nodded.

"I know your father. Not personally, but a man of his skill is sure to have his reputation precede him. Haytham Kenway, at your service," he said with a very courteous bow. Alejandra shuddered. The man was so incredibly polite – she had noticed that the first time she had met him already – that it was hard to believe that he was a ruthless murderer.

He glanced at her, and smiled that uncanny, calculating smile, making her shiver inwardly. She wondered what his plans were, and asked herself whether it was to be put on his account that their coach had not come. "Please excuse me if I should be mistaken, but have we not met before?" She involuntarily shook her head, and flashed a smile.

"You must be mistaken. Under no circumstance could I have forgotten a face like yours, and it seems so little trusted to me," she said politely. He scrutinized her a little bit longer, thinking, and Alejandra had high hopes that her elegant attire and her pinned-up hair did enough to make him conclude that she could not possibly be the worn out, leather-clad girl he had met with a year before.

"At any rate, I would be glad to take you back home," he then prompted, turning to Lucía again, and again arising Alejandra's suspicions about his part in their situation. How did he know, after all, that they were lacking a ride home?

Lucía seemed very inclined to accept, but nevertheless threw a glance at Alejandra to reassure herself. No reassurance was given though, and for a moment the decision hung in the air. "Please, I could not possibly leave you alone here now. My honor depends upon it," he then said.

"We could not let that happen, could we?" Lucía said with played affection, and Alejandra had no other choice but to consent with a smile while her inner turmoil told her to run.

* * *

"Evening, Connor."

"Good evening, old man." Quietly he settled down at the table and helped himself to some food. "I have news," he declared after a while of sitting in silence.

"What news?"

"A couple, Oliver and Corinne, have come here, having been driven out of their home by Loyalists. They had assembled some of the homesteaders around their bonfire, and told me that they had owned an inn. The others were very keen on having an inn around here, so I asked them to stay. They have already started to make plans for it."

Achilles nodded in acknowledgement. "It is good to see the homestead grow in that way."

"And then I just met Prudence on my way back here, and she told me that she was finally pregnant. I knew it would happen when the time was right," he said triumphantly, and Achilles chuckled. "She asked me to find a doctor by the name of White. He is supposed to be in Boston. I hope I will be able to persuade him to come and live here."

"Hum," Achilles made, and then his face lit up, "I am sure you will. If anything, you are stubborn. I do not think anyone could resist your persistence in the long run." Connor frowned, not knowing whether to take this as a compliment or an offence. He shrugged it off eventually, and dwelled on his happiness about Prudence's pregnancy a little longer.

"Have you heard anything of Alejandra?"

He tilted his head aside, mustering the old man questioningly for a moment. Everyone was asking him about her lately. He shrugged, and shook his head. "No, why would I?" Achilles drew up his shoulders.

"I was just wondering whether she is all right. After all, she has been gone for quite a while now," he explained.

"I do not think that there is need to worry. She can look after herself." He was convinced that she could, after all that he had seen of her skills. Indeed, she was in no way inferior to him, except strength, but for that she made up with exceptional swiftness or by simply being stealthy enough to avoid fights altogether. Yes, he was sure she was safe. What he was not so sure about was whether she really _would _return. He had turned the question over in his mind a few times in the past months. He had wondered whether she would be willing to lay her life as an Assassin down for a life as a wife, and he had always come to the conclusion that this was a very absurd idea.

"Do you think Alejandra would give up her life as an Assassin?" he blurted out before he even knew it. He had already considered asking Achilles that once or twice, but had felt stupid for it and consequently dropped the idea. The old man now looked at him questioningly, and Connor regretted having asked already.

"What for?" Achilles asked in disbelief. He shrugged.

"I do not know. After all, she could have a…less dangerous life, if she wanted to." Again Achilles scrutinized him closely, narrowing his eyes. Then he began to laugh.

"If you mean a life as a wife, rest assured that this will never happen. She has a mind of her own, like her mother. She would never let herself be subdued in such a way – or any other, while we're at it."

Quietly Connor took the old man's words in, with a little bit of gratification. It was good to know that he would be able to count on her in the future. Of course he had the other assassins in Boston to assist him, but that was not the same. There was something about her that interested him, but he knew not what it was. And he feared that he was not going to find out as long as she was not there.


	3. 1775

1775

April

After all the good time she had had in Annapolis, after enjoying the feeling of belonging to a family for almost a year, after reliving so many pleasant memories with Lucía and Estela, after witnessing the union of two good, young people who were blessed with a love which could not be any purer – in short, after the countless happy hours, marred only by a few fleeting moments, how could it be justified that with every step her horse had taken northward the longing to get to her destination and away from Annapolis had increased?

The search for an answer had occupied her mind all the way from Annapolis to the Homestead. Yet she was none the wiser now. She had tried attaching her longing to any person residing in the Homestead, but though she was admittedly fond of all of them, no one in particular raised that longing. Had she felt homesick at any time during her stay in the South the matter would have been easily explained, as before mentioned there had been little reason for dissatisfaction.

Perhaps, then, it had been the lack of work – Assassin's work – that had unsettled her. But no, she had done a lot in the way: She had followed Mr. Bell to see whether he had a clean slate, to make sure that he was perfectly worthy of Lucía – which she had found he was; she had investigated the case of Haytham Kenway's presence in Annapolis – much to her frustration to no avail; she had put some men known for their cruelty towards slaves out of work. Indeed, she would have had some more to do, yet she had made haste to get back. Granted, her departure had been brought about partly by news about battles between the regulars and the colonists at Monmouth and Lexington, but she could not say that she cared enough to make this her sole reason. So why this feeling?

That, she had resolved upon entering the area of the Homestead, she would find out by being very attentive with regard to her own conduct and feelings while being within the Homestead. Thus she now travelled the road leading up to the manor, and to her left she soon noticed a great building in the way of an Inn that had not been there when she had left. The community had grown again she rightly concluded.

She had only dismounted when the door of the mansion was flung open, and Connor stepped out, taking a look about him, in search of nothing particular it seemed. For a moment Alejandra had thought he had come outside in such a hurry because he had seen her, and upon finding that this was obviously not the case, felt a little stupid. However, when he laid eyes on her his features lit up with pleasant surprise.

"How good to see you again," he exclaimed, quickly closing the distance between the two of them. She continued undoing the straps fastening her belongings to the saddle, smiling.

"I am glad to be back, too," she said as he stepped beside her. He acknowledged her words with a smile.

"Let me do this for you," he said, meaning to take her things inside for her.

"You needn't," she intervened, but his glance told her that he would not discuss the issue. She shrugged. "Do as you please, then." She watched him disappearing into the house and then turned to take the horse into the stable.

In no time Connor was back, leaning against the frame of the stable casually, his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching her unsaddling the horse. She could tell that there were questions on his mind, as there were many on her own mind as well. But he was too considerate to shower her with them just now.

"A beautiful horse," he remarked instead, and she smiled as she put away the saddle. With his words a pleasant recollection was brought to her mind.

"My friend gave her to me as an acknowledgement for my help," she explained. 'You are the only person in the world who may have her, must have her, Alejandra,' Lucía had said upon her departure, 'Because both of you have contributed so much to my happiness.'

"So he is all right now?" She frowned. What made him think her friend was male? While usually she would have made a fuss about his assumption, she now decided not to dwell on it and simply tell him. It was one of her good days, she supposed.

"Yes, _she_ is all right," she said and stepped past him, being done with her horse. "So, where were you about to go just now?"

"You have seen our new inn I suppose?" he asked as he caught up with her.

"That I have."

"It will be inaugurated today. The hosts, Oliver and Corinne, have prepared a great feast, everyone will be there. Achilles already went down." They stopped by the door, and she turned to face Connor. He looked up at her, standing two steps beneath her. "Will you come?" She looked down at herself, indicating that she would need to change first and then back at him. "Shall I wait here?" His courtesy drew a broad grin to her face, accompanied by a giggle.

"No, I think I will be fine on my own, thank you," she said amusedly, and he smiled. Then he turned to leave, and as she watched him go she wondered whether courtesy was a hereditary trait.

* * *

About half an hour had passed when Alejandra entered the inn, where the festivities were already in full spate. Music was playing, those who were done eating were dancing, and the whole place was bustling with life. Connor sat a little off, along with his friend Kanen'tó:kon, who had come to visit him by chance and was very interested in witnessing the colonial celebration customs.

They had a perfect view of the warm welcome Alejandra received. The first to embrace her was Norris, and as it was a custom with the French, he placed an amiable kiss on each of her cheeks. Myriam embraced her, and judged by the grin on Alejandra's face, said something in the way of 'Finally my favorite hunting partner is back'.

Then the huntress, wearing her characteristic hunting garments even on this festivity, observed Alejandra's unusual garments: A red brocade dress, very simple in style, but nevertheless becoming her very well. It looked new, and Connor supposed she had obtained it in the South in some way. But then again, it could have lingered in the mansion right from the start, as he had never before seen her in a dress. A vague apprehension overcame him as he wondered whether this was a sign that she had grown weary of the life of an Assassin. He quickly dismissed the thought which was so uncomfortable to him for unknown reasons.

Alejandra took the slight mockery of Myriam lightly and passed on to greet everyone else, making a round which would lead her to him and his friend at the end. She came, with Achilles accompanying her, and sat down at the opposite side of the table, facing him.

"What a tumult! It seems everyone was in desperate need of an Inn," she commented cheerfully after having greeted Kanen'tó:kon politely. Connor nodded.

"They were instantly fond of Oliver and Corinne," he said, and then added with a grin, "And their beer, it seems." She laughed, and turned to watch the buoyant crowd. Then, upon turning back, her face turned more serious, and she focused her attention exclusively on him.

"I have read in the papers of trouble in Lexington and Concord," she began, and he nodded. He had expected that she was eager to learn about what had happened, having learned very early that she was always eager to do her share.

"Maybe this is not the place and time for a narrative such as this," he told her, and saw the disappointment coming to her face. He could not help but smiling at her curiosity. "Why don't you tell us what you did in Annapolis?"

She grinned, showing her perfect set of white teeth, and was about to retort something doubtlessly negative to his request when she was interrupted by Norris sitting down beside her and placing his left arm around her shoulders, making her focus all her attention on him. Connor did not listen to the conversation – his thoughts were drifting off. He wondered why it was that Alejandra seemed to trust Norris. He could not explain the fact that she willingly suffered him to treat her like this. He was not particularly jealous, but he knew exactly that he would have received a heavy punishment had he done the same. Maybe it was because it was just Norris's nature to be like this that made her accept it. She knew he was like this towards almost everyone, and she knew that he had no intentions towards her other than being her friend.

But Connor had no other intentions towards her either. Yet he felt he was far from being trusted by her in the way she trusted the Frenchman. Or was he just deceiving himself? After all, he was a whole lot different from Norris when it came to character. Maybe, if he were more open with her she would warm to him as well.

With these thoughts on his mind he watched the two friends leaving the Inn together, probably because Norris wanted to interview her on a possible gift for Myriam.

"Alejandra is so beautiful," he heard Kanen'tó:kon say in their native tongue, and he turned to look at his friend. He was staring after her dreamily, and Connor frowned. Had not that issue been settled? Kanen'tó:kon turned to him. "Do you not think she would make an excellent squaw? Everyone would admire her among our people." He tilted his head to the side, and then chuckled.

"But she would not want to be one of us," he argued. Kanen'tó:kon let out a deep sigh.

"Maybe that is because she does not know our ways well enough yet. She has the blood of Indians in her veins, did you not say so? She must be able to live like one of us," he insisted, and Connor shook his head.

"My friend, I can understand you, but you should not let yourself be deceived by her looks. She has never been accustomed to a life as a native. She would not be happy, and neither would you." He spoke in the sincerest way possible, hoping Kanen'tó:kon would understand. But his face grew agitated, and he suddenly rose from his chair.

"It is time I went home," he said drily, and then left without looking back. Connor looked after him with a worried look.

"What was that all about?" Achilles, who had so far only watched the scenery in silence, inquired. Connor shrugged.

"I think Kanen'tó:kon is infatuated," he stated, and the old man mustered him curiously, as if he wanted to read something in his face. Whether he succeeded or not, Connor could not tell.

* * *

May

"…and while the white cougar was in the mine, attacking Connor, I shot it! It was a moment filled with tension, but I hit the target without so much as brushing Connor," Myriam told Alejandra with much excitement, an excitement which was usually connected to some very special trophy Myriam had acquired.

"It is a pity I was not with you," Alejandra said regretfully. Myriam smiled.

"Indeed it was. But Connor did very well, though he could never replace you." Alejandra blushed a little, feeling very much honored by the huntress's high estimation of her skills. "Speaking of the devil." She pointed at the young Assassin approaching the tree on which their hunting blind was built. He was in search of something or someone, and since he was approaching Myriam's hut, they decided to meet him.

"Good afternoon, Connor," Myriam greeted him heartily as they were back on solid ground. He acknowledged their presence with a nod, and then directly turned his attention on Alejandra.

"Are you up to some treasure hunting?"

She tilted her head aside, and mustered him. "Treasure hunting?"

"There is a part of the map leading to Captain Kidd's treasure in Fort Wolcott. Mr. Faulkner suggested we take a trip there, and I thought you might want to come."

Her face lit up immediately. "I would be glad," she said.

"We will set sail within the hour, you should hurry."

* * *

Five days they had already been on the open sea, and Alejandra had enjoyed every single hour to the fullest. The weather was fine; a steady wind bore the Aquila to her destination, and she had learned a lot about sea-faring so far. Twice they had encountered enemy ships, but they had been sunk easily, the Aquila being a very well equipped ship, and her captain being up to the task of handling her like no other Alejandra was sure.

Said captain now stepped beside her, and supported himself on the railing as she did, looking out onto the ocean. She glanced at him, and felt that inward shiver which she had felt so often these days. It was a most unwelcome sensation accompanied by a giddiness that gave her the feeling of not being in control of herself.

It was his captain's attire she was sure. It was so imposing, it made him so commanding. Of course that was what it was supposed to do. But it was not supposed to affect _her_ in that way. It made her wish him to go away although she usually enjoyed his presence.

"Should a captain abandon his wheel in such a casual way?" she asked, out of the hope to make him resume his post. He looked at her, and then turned to look up at the wheel where Mr. Faulkner was standing. Alejandra watched him, still trying to discern why he was making her feel so strange lately, and abruptly decided that it had to be the hat.

"I am sure Mr. Faulkner can handle things himself for a while," Connor said upon turning back, and she mustered a smile that must have looked very strange, as it developed from a feeling of disappointment and confirmed apprehension. In one bold act she snatched the hat from his head, longing to get rid of that hated giddiness, and placed it on her own head.

It was no good. A short glance at the now hatless captain and the feeling was renewed, if not strengthened. There was nothing unusual in his face, except the curiosity her action had stirred of course. His gaze was friendly and warm, his lips displayed a light smile, and yet she had this peculiar feeling. It had to be the dark blue coat then, and that she could not possibly rid him of without arousing suspicion.

"What happened in Lexington and Concord?" she prompted, for one to engage her mind in a subject that had nothing to do with ships and their captains, and because she had really craved to know more about the events in which he had so obviously partaken.

He turned his look back to the ocean; his countenance grew a little weary. She had already guessed that he was not very eager to talk about the scenes he had seen in these battles, and she felt a little sorry for being the curious person she was.

"There is not much to be told. The regulars wanted to take captive Sam Adams and some of his companions, to rout the colonials by destroying their supplies. I rode with Paul Revere to warn them at night, and the next day we encountered the British forces first in Lexington, then in Concord. I helped them where I could, but a lot of those poor people died that day," he explained, and anger stirred in his eyes, "They were mere farmers, trying to defend their homes." She averted her eyes, seeing the bitterness he felt.

"I am sure you did all you could. Don't blame yourself," she said quietly. He heaved a deep sigh, struggling with himself to push the dark thoughts aside it seemed. She pressed her lips to a thin line, angry with herself for having brought the topic up. She really had not thought it took it out of him to such a degree.

In an attempt to console him she put her right hand on his forearm firmly, making him turn to her. He looked at her inquiringly, making her wonder what he saw. He reached for her, and before she could react took his hat, of which she had indeed forgotten that it was on her head, back and put his onto his own head with a smirk. The look sent shivers down her spine, and that giddiness rose again, making her turn away quickly.

"You owe me a story now," he claimed, and she prompted a 'Psh'. Then an ironical smile crossed her face, she knew not why. He was right, she owed him now. And she did not like owing anyone anything.

"My friend – Lucía – wanted my presence because she had fallen in love with a rich merchant by the name of Bell," she smiled at the recollection of it, "And she wanted me to see to it that he had no skeleton in his closet. That I did, and they got married at the beginning of April." He now turned to her completely, leaning against the banister and mustering her.

"And that took you nearly a year?" He sounded almost accusing, but the amusement in his eyes told her he did not mean it. She swallowed, feeling nervous under his gaze.

"N-no," she stuttered, and her condition worsened. "No, in fact I did some other useful things as well." She heaved an inward sigh, and hoped he did not notice. She was beginning to long for their return to the Homestead, where he would wear is usual clothing again and that spell that was on her would be broken. It was odious to her.

"What useful things?" It was as though he was trying to take revenge on her for bringing the bitter thoughts of battle to his mind.

Suddenly the salvaging thought to gain the upper hand again sprung to her mind. She turned to him, emboldened by the message she had to deliver. "I met your father."

The words had the wished-for effect: his countenance grew puzzled, then worried, then angry. He stiffened, and the casual attitude which he had worn so well and which had partly added to her giddiness, was gone. The muscles of his jaws were working hard, indicating that he was grounding his teeth.

"He did not know me," she hastened to say, feeling the effect was a bit too much for her to enjoy it, "Since I was in dress for the theatre. He was very polite, too, taking Lucía and me home because our coach had not arrived." The information did little to make him relax.

"Which was probably his doing," he interposed, and she rolled her eyes.

"No it was not. I looked into the matter of course, and it appeared the driver of the coach had been beaten down by some rascals. The poor man was half-dead, but he recovered. I also tried to find out what your father was doing in Annapolis, but he was gone again after a few days of his stay without having done anything at all."

At that Connor turned away again, and slightly relaxed. "You are sure he did not recognize you?" She bit her lip, remembering that Haytham _had _found her familiar.

"Even if he had known me, he would certainly not have known that I am an Assassin," she told him, unable to lie. He glanced at her a little angrily. She frowned in worry. She had again not expected that the topic would have such an impact on him. "How come you hate him so much, Connor?"

"He is a Templar," he stated matter-of-factly. She sighed.

"I know that. But he is your father, too."

"He left my mother before I got to know him." Obviously she had hit a sore spot.

"I know…" she said quietly, feeling a little forlorn and not knowing what else to say to him to make him cheer up again. But then, unexpectedly, his mien softened again and he turned to her.

"I am glad nothing happened to you," he said, and then left to take the wheel of the Aquila gain. She heaved a deep, weary sigh, and felt very exhausted suddenly. Within a matter of merely fifteen minutes she had now undergone a lot of different feelings, most of them feelings she was not at all used to and that later made her think that she was maybe not so superior to her female nature as she had always told herself she was.

* * *

It was in the evening, the sun was setting, casting a red glare over the landscape, when they entered Fort Wolcott via a steep and tiresome climb up the cliffs and walls of the fort facing the ocean. As usual it was admirable how Alejandra had managed to keep up. They now stood on one of the towers, looking down into the courtyard, which was filled with parading British troops.

"We will have to circle around to avoid the courtyard," he observed, and she nodded, taking a look around. There was a rope taut between the tower and the one opposite to it, and a wooden door leading into the latter. It could be opened by a strong enough impact Connor supposed. He saw in her face that she was thinking the same, and nodded. "Let me go first," he said, and no remonstrance was given. No matter how rebellious she could be, when it came down to working together, theirs was always a very harmonious relationship.

He took his tomahawk, jumped at the rope with all the momentum he could muster, latched onto it with the weapon and speedily slid down towards the door, jumping into it feet first and then rolling into the inside unhurt. Immediately he then hid behind a piled up stack of crates to avoid being seen by the guard whose attention had been attracted by the noise.

"Probably a gull or a rat…The only intruders we get here anyway. Preposterous. Send me across the ocean to play sentry of some meaningless isle. This is my last tour for a certainty. When I see the Captain, I'll look him directly into the eyes and say, 'Sir, I'm going home. I have had enough of these nonsense assignments."

While the man thus complained, his voiced distanced itself from the place where Connor was. Being sure that the area was safe, he stepped towards the open door, meaning to give Alejandra the sign to come as well, but instead being hit by her, and consequently falling on his back with her on top of him. Fortunately he had left his bow on the Aquila. It would have broken – and done no little damage to himself.

"Ouw," he muttered, and looked up into a pair of very worried brown eyes. She was so close that he could feel her excited breath on his skin. Her brows were drawn together in worry as well. It was a sight that made him forget the pain she had dealt him a moment ago.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a hushed whisper, having calmed down, but obviously not thinking of getting off of him yet.

"Yes," he responded in the same tones, "but what did you think you were doing?"

"I was worried, it took you so long!" A bit of reprimand could be made out in her subdued voice.

"Is someone there?" The foolish question of the returning guard interrupted Connor's reply. Instead, he scrambled to his feet as Alejandra quickly got up, and pulled her with him to the crates, ushering her to the wall protectively. Although they easily could have taken out the man, they spared him his fate by keeping still. With the words "One _has _to grow mad in this place," he went away once more. Connor turned to Alejandra.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For being worried."

"Now don't be silly," she chided in amusement and then proceeded into the building. He was glad to see her spirits heightened again. Ever since their conversation some days ago she had been sulky and somewhat bad-tempered for no apparent reason. And even before that she had behaved very conspicuously at times. He could not help but thinking that it had something to do with her stay in Annapolis. From what he had gathered she had brought together two very loving persons. Maybe their happiness had made her long for something of the like for herself?

But then again, it was now that she was engaged in a little adventure and danger – things belonging to the life of an Assassin – that her spirits revived. Maybe the long period of inaction at sea had bored her despite the fact that she had obviously enjoyed the fresh air of the ocean. He hoped the latter option was the right one.

"Connor, are you coming?" he heard her demand, and hurried to meet her.

They passed by some guards unnoticed by either climbing across the rooms, or by using as their shelter the darkness of the place and the false sense of security into which they let themselves be lulled. Many of them were complaining about the uselessness of employing so many troops to guard such a meaningless fortification.

As they now reached a ledge from which they could look into the assembly hall of the fort, they found the Captain of the fort giving some of his inferiors an angry lecture.

"Not a day passes without me hearing you complaining of this assignment! 'The fort is meaningless', 'command is pushing the Captain for what happened in Poland'…"

Connor looked at the two massive candelabras that hung over the hall. They could make it across if they jumped from one to the other, but they would have to wait until the place was empty, so he settled down and proceeded listening. Alejandra, understanding, followed his example.

"…You are not trained to comment on strategy, nor are you aware of rebel movements. So put a stop to it! The next man I hear questioning the validity of my post will receive ten lashes and seven days in the old dungeon – without rations. Is that clear?"

"Well, he did make his point," Alejandra whispered, "I'm sure _I _would not want to end up in that dungeon." He acknowledged her words with a grin, but then prompted her to go ahead across the empty hall. They had no time to lose, for the distraction he had asked of Mr. Faulkner would soon be executed by cannon shots.

From the hall they came into sleeping quarters, and after traversing them, reached a little courtyard, which they crossed to get into the prison block. Four guards were in it, and they were taken out silently.

Finding the piece of the map was almost too easy, and just as the two of them turned to leave through the front door, a grenadier and an ordinary lobster back walked in.

"Let's see what you've got, rebels," the grenadier said, but before they could even draw their weapons the bombardment started, crushing parts of the room and burying the men beneath the debris. To their right an escape was opened by the roof coming down, and they climbed the debris to get out. Outside all hell had broken loose. Fires had been kindled, the power depots obviously having been hit. Connor took a moment for orientation, and saw an opening. Making sure that Alejandra was with him he quickly picked his way towards it.

Amidst the confusion and screams they made their way through, dodging what obstacles there were. Another shot from the Aquila took the ground away beneath their feet, making them land in the assembly hall, encountering half a dozen soldiers who still had the nerve to attack them. They took them out quick enough, and the huge doors of the hall were shattered to pieces.

The courtyard was in flames, but they still had a chance to get out across some planks that had fallen right into place to form a ramp.

"We have to hurry Connor," Alejandra reminded him, and he nodded, leading the way up the ramp and descending into another court. Orientation was difficult, so he just followed his instincts, which had seldom failed him. Besides, there was not much of a choice when it came to paths. It led them through a passage between two houses, and then up onto a broader area. He caught a glimpse of their way out, and hurried on, seeing that it was surrounded by burning debris that threatened to fall and cut off their escape.

He jumped onto a bar that was part of the roof beams of a broken house, and from there unto another platform. Another sprint and then a jump and they'd be out of there. He looked back once more, and spotting Alejandra right behind him, took to his heels. The way led him through a stony archway, up another ramp, onto a stack of cannonballs hanging loosely in the air, and from there he jumped right down into the deep, black maw of the ocean.

He had missed the cliffs, and had hurried to get to the surface to see where Alejandra was. He looked about himself, turning a few times, but saw her nowhere. He scanned the cliffs, anticipating the greatest horror, but was relieved. He looked up to see whether there was any sign of her at the fort, but to no avail. Again he turned, and spotted her floating atop the water. Immediately he got a hold of her, pulled her to him, and looked into her lifeless face.

But it was not possible. She had landed in the water, and was an excellent swimmer, not to be drowned that easily. He shook her, said her name over and over again, and in the moment in which his despair was fully taking possession of him, he fancied a smile coming to her lips. He blinked some of the drops of water that might have obscured his view away and found that indeed she was now smiling brightly, taking a load of his heart and soul. Opening her eyes, she looked at him directly, and he began to laugh. He did not know whether she had done this on purpose – it was highly likely though – or whether she really had been unconscious for a moment, but he did not really care either.

"I thought I had lost you," he said, his laughter having subsided. She laughed, and with both her hands she fought back the wet masses of her hair, and once more he had that feeling that she was immensely beautiful, that his friend was right in admiring her so.

"Thank you," she said, and he frowned with a smile still playing on his lips.

"For what?"

"For being worried."


End file.
